Someone Else's Body
by Empanada de Pizza
Summary: Kyle has been feeling confused for quite some time. When he finally discovers the truth about who he is, he finds there are still more questions than answers. Eventual K2
1. Skin

_South Park belongs to Trey and Matt._

_I'm trying something new and completely different here. I was listening to the radio at work the other day, and a story came on that I found really touching. So of course, it influenced me to write a story about it. Enjoy!_

If someone told Kyle seven years ago that he'd suffer from an identity crisis before he'd even left high school, he would have probably sighed in begrudging agreement. It sounded like something he'd do. Between school, his home life, and all the random strange shit that happened in South Park on a seemingly daily basis, life for the 17-year-old never was the easiest. Kyle just figured that was the way the world was going to work for him, and he had long accepted that fact.

As he sat in his sociology class, a class he'd taken just because he knew he could get an easy A, he spent most of the teacher's lecture staring off into the distance. Something had changed this year for Kyle, but he wasn't quite sure what. He began looking at everything in his life, from his friends to his family, differently. Nothing felt right to him anymore. Hanging out with his Stan and Kenny (Cartman was there, but generally ignored by Kyle) didn't feel the same as it did when they were kids. Talking to his dad about his future made him more uncomfortable than optimistic as it had in the past. He only had those types of conversations with his mother once in a blue moon, as to not feel guilty as well as uncomfortable.

His general sense of unease was bothering him because he didn't know why he was uncomfortable, and because he didn't know the cause, he couldn't find a solution to the problem. Kyle _hated_ not solving problems immediately. Almost as much as he hated not being able to figure out the problem in the first place.

"Dude, you ok?" Kenny asked, poking Kyle in the back with his pencil. Kenny had taken the class because he knew from speaking with some of the older students that the class would be discussing sex and that had interested him. Needless to say, he was disappointed when he found out that they weren't being taught about sex the activity, but the physical components of what made men, men and women, women.

Kyle shook his head, trying to clear his runaway thoughts. Not that he was having much luck. "I'm fine, dude. Just…"

"Not here?"

"Something like that…" Kyle muttered.

The lights went out and the projection screen was lowered from the ceiling. The teacher was messing with some controls in order to play a video, but was obviously having some issues with the "goddamn newfangled technology" as he called it, resulting in the class yelling out in near agony as the video began to play with the volume at ear-bleeding. After being nearly deafened, Token offered to assist the teacher, getting the volume issue fixed. Facing the class, the teacher began, once again, to lecture.

"This video is on gender and sexual identities. I want you all to take notes, because he can't take this video home. It should last the remainder of class," he said checking his watch. The classroom clock stopped working in October. "For your assignment, I want a two-page paper on one of the identities discussed on this film. The paper is due in two weeks, so I don't want any half-assed, last minute throw away papers you children seem so fond of turning in." He glared specifically in Kenny's direction. Kenny just raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Right. Enjoy."

Play was pressed, and the video began. Kyle didn't really want to watch, but he also wanted to get a good grade on this assignment. His eyes practically stayed glued to his paper, as he listened to the narrator and interviewees speak, allowing him to coordinate his notes. While the video itself was fairly engaging, not too boring, nothing was standing out enough for him to want to write an entire paper on. The LGBT community was something that, while not completely accepted in South Park, it was highly tolerated. Tolerated being an extreme word sometimes, thanks in part to Mr. Garrison and whatever new facet of his life he felt the need to share with the world.

Kyle looked up from his paper. He thought about Mr. Garrison, and how he'd gone from a straight man, to a gay man, to a lesbian woman, back to a gay man, and then briefly an asexual man-whore. That last one had confused and disgusted the townsfolk as nothing else he'd done ever had. Mr. Garrison was a walking gender/sexual identity disorder. Kyle wrote down his former teacher's name on his paper, underlining it when the something in the video made him look up again.

"_Since we're born," the narrator read, "outside influences determine our genders. But for some, those influences prove to be much more difficult to follow. Transsexuals find it hard living in the body they were born in, often feeling as though they were meant to be the opposite sex."_

_An elderly man sat with another man, their hands clasped firmly as they shared a loving smile._

"_It was really hard, coming out and telling my husband I wasn't happy as a woman," said the first elderly man. "I was so afraid of his reaction that for years I kept it inside."_

"_I knew," said the second elderly man, "that something was bothering her for a very long time. I finally decided enough was enough, and asked her what was going on. When she told me she wanted to be a man, I honestly didn't know how to react."_

"_I thought for sure that he would leave me, but even after everything, he stayed by my side."_

"_After speaking about what changes their family would go through," the narrator continued, pictures of a man and woman on their wedding day next to the two elderly men dancing under a banner that read "Happy Anniversary" on the screen, "the Feldman's decided to opt for gender reassignment surgery."_

_The elderly couple was shown once again. "Tommy never left my side, even though I thought I knew in my heart of hearts he would just walk away."_

_Tommy smiled. "I realized it would be hard, but i fell in love with the person inside the body, not the body itself."_

Kyle sat up straighter in his chair. His eyes flicked back to the last thing he'd written down.

_Mr. Garrison._

This assignment suddenly seemed more difficult than it had half an hour ago.


	2. Petals

_South Park belongs to Trey and Matt._

_Thanks to those who reviewed and faved! I really appreciate it!  
><em>

"Stupid bullshit homework assignment!"

Kenny ducked down from his spot on Kyle's bed, narrowly avoiding the textbook Kyle had thrown from his computer desk. While Kenny was in agreement with the sentiment, he'd been more than a little bit surprised at just how much this assignment was bothering Kyle. But not quite as surprised as he was to show up on the Thursday afternoon before the paper was due that Friday to ask Kyle to help him with his paper, and learn that Kyle was nowhere near finished with his paper. Kyle had a tendency of finishing assignments the day they were assigned.  
>Picking up the book, Kenny winced as Kyle banged his head against the computer desk repeatedly.<p>

"Dude, just take it easy. Sure this paper is stupid, but that hasn't stopped you from getting an A before."

"I'm not just worried about the paper," Kyle muttered. He pressed his face pressed flat against the desk, clutching his hair in his a hands.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Of course not. That's why I was nearly decapitated with a textbook."

Kyle merely groaned. He picked his head up and turned to face Kenny. "Ok, so I'm a little bit worried about this assignment. Dude, we've had two fucking weeks to do this, and I am NOWHERE near finished! Hell, the only actual research I've done is talk to Mr. Garrison for insight, and all I learned from THAT little endeavor was how to have safe sex with a prostitute from his new 'companion' Dr. Rocketfighter." At Kenny's raised eyebrow Kyle added, "Dude, don't even ask. Just...just don't."

"Ok, so obviously you broke your brain," Kenny said shrugging. "And I'm sorry you felt the need to talk to Garrison, that man is a freak and that must have been awkward for you."

"You have no fucking idea."

Kenny jumped back onto the bed, pushing the books to the floor. "I'm lazy, that's why I rely on your super brain, but if you can't do your homework, something else must be going on. So, come, sit and tell Dr. Kenny what is going on." Kenny patted the seat next to him, motioning for Kyle. Kyle, for his part, looked like he would rather be anywhere else that sitting next to Kenny to confess anything. Kenny's ability to be overly observant obviously came from his generally standing in the background and only speaking when being spoken to as a child. Having had years to hone and perfect this, Kenny was always the first to realize something was wrong with someone, well before they themselves realized something was wrong.

Unfortunately for Kyle, he knew what was wrong. He just didn't want anyone else to know. Ever.

Kenny, for his part, was calmly waiting for Kyle. If he waited just long enough, Kyle would cave in, just a Stan would dance around a subject before buckling under pressure, and Cartman would become belligerent and yell and curse someone out before eventually spilling his guts. Of their group, Kyle was the easiest to crack, and always had been. Kenny merely watched silently as Kyle's eyes flicked from where he sat on the bed to the corner of the room, his hands rubbing his face in frustration and grumbling to himself.

Jumping from his chair, Kyle threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Fine!" Huffing, he threw himself on the bed next to Kenny, who was wearing a shit-eating grin of triumph. "But you have to promise to keep this to yourself. I haven't told anyone, not even Stan."

Kenny's cocked an eyebrow. "I'm learning something before Stanny-o?"

Kyle nodded, looking more nervous. "Yes. Please, Kenny. I just sort of coming to terms with this."

"Dude, I promise," Kenny swore solemnly. Kyle shot him a grateful, albeit tiny, smile.

"O-ok," Kyle huffed. "First, can I ask you something?" Kenny nodded. "What, um... what do you think about me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, my personality and shit. How do you see me? And answer honestly."

Kenny leaned against the wall thinking. This conversation, not only did it come out of the blue, but it was slightly bothering Kenny that Kyle felt the need to ask him this in the first place. While it was no huge secret between the four of them (mostly Kenny and Stan) that Kyle's outlook of himself could be improved a great deal, it upset Kenny that Kyle was constantly looking for validation. Running a hand through his hair, Kenny sighed.

"Honestly, dude?" Kyle nodded. "You are ridiculously fucking smart, but that's always been known. You have a temper like nothing else. You're cute as fuck," Kenny winked. Kyle blushed, motioning Kenny to continue sans flirting. Kenny laughed. "And, don't take this the wrong way, but you're kinda... I dunno, girly."

Kyle blinked. "Girly? What do you mean?"

"I don't mean girly, just... I guess I mean you're more in touch with your emotions. Stan cries over every-fucking-thing, but you take the time to look at why something is upsetting and then decided whether or not you should cry over it. I dunno, that doesn't seem to make sense, but there you go... girly."

When finished explaining, he looked over at Kyle. He was expecting the younger teen to be flushed with embarrassment or anger. He was expecting Kyle to be staring off into space, refusing to speak with him. What he wasn't expecting as the look of pure openness coming from Kyle. Kenny had honestly never seen that look on Kyle's face before.

"It's ok. I actually think that's what I was looking for."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Kyle smiled. "Thanks dude."

"No problem. So, what is this horrible secret that you can't even share with Stan?"

Kyle sighed, staring out the window. Despite his reservations, Kyle knew that he could trust Kenny. Just like his keen observation ability, Kenny was good at keeping secrets. HE just didn't feel prepared to bare himself that way.

One could only do so much soul searching and self-reflection in two weeks.

Kenny took Kyle's fingers that were on the bed next to him and squeezed them reassuringly. "Dude, no pressure. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"That's just it. It isn't that I don't want to, it's just... I don't know how."

Kenny frowned. "Does this have something to do with what I think about you?"

Kyle's nod was barely noticeable. Had Kenny not been so focused on him, he would have never even noticed it. "Ok," Kyle finally said after a few moments of silence. He swallowed nervously, letting Kenny know he was ready to speak. "I have been doing a lot of thinking lately..."

"No shock there."

"...about my place in life and who I am." Kenny frowned at the wording of Kyle's sentence. He silently hoped it didn't mean what Kenny feared it did. "I have barely come to a conclusion, and I am confused as fuck because of it. I mean, I was always pretty damn sure about who I was, and what I am."

"What you are?" Kenny shook his head in confusion. Kyle nodded.

"I have concluded that I don't know who I am Kenny. I'm so fucking confused, I don't know what to with myself!"

"Confused about what? Shit, Kyle, you're talking in circles, I'M confused as fuck!"

Kyle groaned, lying down so he was now staring at the ceiling. "Dude...I don't know who I am anymore."

Kenny sighed quietly. Obviously, given the defeated look on Kyle's face, this had been eating away at him for some time. Kenny reached over and grabbed Kyle's hat from the floor. Kyle rarely wore it in his own home, feeling slightly less awkward about his hair around his parents. He played with it for a moment, before placing it as best he could on Kyle's head. "You're Kyle," he said with a smile.

Kyle didn't smile back. "On the outside, maybe."

Again, Kenny frowned. He opened his mouth to question that odd comment when a screeching noised came from the window. Kenny turned to look at what made the noise as Kyle was beginning to sit up. No sooner than he did that, a large orange bird crashed through the window, its beak impaling itself into Kenny's eye socket.

Kyle watched as the older boy slumped over off of the bed with a look of disbelief. First, he didn't know what it was that had just killed his friend. But more importantly, he was pissed because he was finally about to open up and reveal to Kenny just what was bothering him. With him dead, the secret remained that.

Groaning, Kyle threw his face into his hands. Not only did he not get to confide in someone who could probably help him figure out what to do, but he also still had a paper to finish writing. He lowered his hands, cupping them under his chin as he stared at Kenny's now lifeless body.

"You bastard."

* * *

><p>The following morning had been nothing short of a nightmare for Kyle. Having little to no sleep, due to his writing both his and Kenny's papers (Kenny was offering to help him before the bird incident, the least he could do is make sure he handed in one paper this semester), Kyle was already in a grumpy mood.<p>

He stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, just staring at himself. He turned his head left and right, taking in his bone structure. As best as he could, Kyle ran a hand through his hair, and wondered what he would look like if he grew his hair out. Would the hair poof up on the top of his head as it did when he was younger? Would his curls mellow the longer they became? Would it make him look more feminine? He couldn't stand the Jew-fro he'd had as a child, opting to always wearing his hat, no matter what season it was. Kenny was right in saying that he was kinda girly, he had a very feminine looking face. His curly hair only added to that.

Backing away from the sink, he took off his shirt, letting it plop on the floor. He took in his physique. He was really scrawny, thanks to years of sickness. He placed his hands on his hips, biting his bottom lip as he scrutinized himself. Nothing about him felt right. The longer he looked at himself, the less comfortable in his own skin he became.

Kyle looked around the bathroom, before spotting a pair of towels hanging on the rack next to the shower. He grabbed the first one, wrapping it around his head, completely covering his hair. Grabbing the second towel, he wrapped it around his chest. This was a much different look than what he was used to, but he couldn't help but feel captivated by it.

He wasn't sure how long he stood in front of the mirror, but he jumped, dropping the towel that he wrapped around him, when he heard someone knocking on the door.

"Kyle, Mom says to hurry up or you'll be late for school," Ike called from the other side of the door. Kyle placed a hand on his chest, trying to control his breathing. He didn't know why almost being caught by his brother wearing a towel as a make-shift sarong frightened him so much. But he was glad that Ike didn't just barge in as he was known to do before.

"Tell her I'll be right down," he shouted out. He took the towel from his head and placed it back on the towel rack with a sigh. With a final glance in the mirror, he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands furiously. "What's the matter with you?"

* * *

><p>Kyle walked slowly as he approached the school. He had to listen to his mother lecture him about the importance on running on time, which made him late, ironically enough, and he really wasn't looking forward to the rest of the day. He spent most of his mother's lecture thinking about telling Stan what he wasn't able to tell Kenny. The thought of that made him nauseous.<p>

He smiled a bit as he approached Stan at his locker. "Hey," Kyle said.

"What happened to you, dude?" Stan asked, checking his watch. "You're never this late."

Kyle shrugged, shouldering his backpack. "My mother decided to start lecturing me about getting to school on time."

Stan grimaced. "You're mom has the best timing."

"Tell me about it," Kyle snorted. It was now or never. "Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I need to tell you."

"You're not in love with me, are you?" Stan joked. Somehow that crack made Kyle feel better. Two years ago he came to the conclusion that he was somewhat bi-curious, which became full-on bisexual last year.

"You wish," he laughed. "No, I just..." The bell rang, signaling the beginning on school. Goddamn school, getting in the way of life-altering announcements. "Meet me after school, I'll tell you then."

Stan frowned in concern. "Everything ok?"

Kyle nodded, Stan's concern reassuring. "Yeah." The second bell rang, and the two boys started off in different directions. Kyle turned, walking backwards. "After school?"

"After school!" Stan called back. Kyle smiled as Stan almost walked into the wall.

He wasn't that good at walking backwards like Kyle was. That was until Kyle landed on his back, his hat flying off as the back of his skull collided with the floor with a loud thumping noise. Above him, Craig and Tweek were watching him with disinterested and nervous eyes respectively.

"Jesus Christ!" Tweek shouted, jerking back against the lockers.

"Watch out," Craig droned in his typically nasal voice. "There's a floor there."

"Gee, thanks for that, Craig," Kyle deadpanned, picking himself off the floor. He bent down to pick up his hat which fell off. Craig smirked in amusement, before picking up the bag Kyle tripped over, and headed in the opposite direction, Tweek in tow.

He took his seat in his Sociology class, rubbing his head. There were only a handful of times he was glad his hair was as thick as it was, and this was one of them. He hoped he didn't end up with a concussion. With a sigh, Kyle stared at the seat next to his. He had hoped that Kenny's habit of dying constantly would have abated as he got older. Obviously not, and Kenny wasn't any closer to figuring out why that was, either. Without even realizing it, 20 minutes had passed, with him staring at Kenny's desk. The teacher was now calling for their assignments, also eyeing Kenny's empty desk.

"Did he actually finish the assignment, Mr. Broflovski?" the teacher asked, as Kyle handed over both his and Kenny's papers.

Kyle nodded. "Yes sir. I had to type it for him, though." The teacher raised an eyebrow at that. "He had it written and was at my house and was starting to type it on my computer, when he was hit in the face with a large, angry bird." The teacher just shook his head, and continued. Kyle was glad that Kenny had taught him the art of lying over the years. His childhood poker face left a lot to be desired.

Once all the papers were turned it, the teacher addressed the class. "I will have most of these graded by the end of the day, if you wish to know your grade, just come by before the school day ends." Once the assignment was on the teacher's desk, Kyle felt slightly better. Now the he felt was due to the impending discussion he was going to have with Stan.

It wasn't every day that a guy told his best friend that he thought he was born into the wrong sex.

It really was going to be a very long day.

* * *

><p>Knowing that his paper was at the top of the list, mostly due to his last name starting with "B" and his teacher liked to keep things in alphabetical order, Kyle went to the teacher after school to get his assignment. It gave him a few minutes before he had to talk to Stan. Not that he was stalling, he was just making sure that all his hard work was not for nothing.<p>

Ok, and he was stalling a bit.

Knocking at the door, he entered the sociology class. As he expected, his teacher was bent over his desk with a green pen. All tests and assignments were graded in green because, like the alphabetizing, it was just one of the teacher's quirks. The teacher looked up, smiling at Kyle. "I had a feeling you would be the one to show up, Mr. Broflovski."

"Yeah, well, you know me," Kyle said nervously.

"I have to say I was quite pleased to see that you'd done a different topic than the rest of your classmates. One gets bored of reading the same thing over and again. 'Homos are gay' and 'hot man-on-man action is sexy' just scream of a level of maturity I've never seen. But your work on the transgendered community was quite insightful."

Kyle laughed quietly, rubbing his arm. "I figured that you would like a break from man-on-man action."

Shaking his head, the teacher sighed. "Indeed. Well, here you are, then," he said, handing Kyle his paper. "I'm sure you have better things to do that discuss the workings of your classmates' brains."

"Thank you. Have a good weekend."

"You as well, Kyle."

Kyle left the room, looking at his paper, a giant green "A" sitting at the top of the page, with the occasional comment of "very insightful" or "I found this particularly fascinating" littered throughout. It was easy to write about a topic, Kyle found over the two weeks he was working on it, if the subject matter hit close to home.

'Just focus on how you were feeling, change around the pronouns, and go,' he thought, swallowing nervously as he saw Stan waiting at their spot by the bleachers. Stan looked up and saw him, waving at his with a smile on his face. He could do this. It was Stan, for fuck's sake. His Super Best Friend since they were shitting their pants. If anyone would support him through this strange transition in his life, it would be Stan. Squaring his shoulders with that thought, Kyle made his way over, sitting on the bleachers that had replaced to bus stop of their childhood.

"So," Stan started, not one to waste time unless the situation required it. "What is this thing that is eating you alive?"

Kyle leaned on his arms on the bleacher behind him, staring up at the clouds. "Have you ever felt like you were living a lie?"

Stan's smile dropped. "Seriously, dude, is everything ok?"

"I dunno. I think I've been having an identity crisis, or something, lately, 'cause I don't feel like the Kyle I used to."

Stan merely sighed, plopping down next to Kyle. "I don't understand."

Kyle groaned, throwing his face in his hands. "That's the problem, I don't understand, either. Not really."

"Why don't you tell me what it is that you don't understand. Maybe I can help."

"I hope so," Kyle said into his hands. "I need you to promise me that you aren't going to freak out," Kyle said, wiping his hands on his pants. He was beginning to sweat out of nervousness.

"Are you sick? Is that what this is about?"

Kyle almost wanted to start laughing at how scared Stan looked. He could only imagine what he looked like to Stan. He shook his head, and some of the fear left Stan's eyes. "No, I'm not sick. But I'm not ok, either." He turned to stare across the football field, no longer comfortable looking at Stan. For some odd reason, he really wanted to cry. "I-I don't feel... comfortable," he began slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"In my skin. I don't feel...right." Stan furrowed his eyebrows, but didn't say anything, giving Kyle time to say what he'd been working up to. "I don't feel like Kyle anymore. And I haven't for a while. I-I don't feel like a guy."

Kyle glanced at Stan from the side of his eye. Stan looked anything but amused, which was fine with Kyle because this was hardly a humorous revelation. What was bothering Kyle most was the fact that Stan almost looked angry. He swallowed hard, waiting for a reaction.

Stan didn't disappoint. "You don't feel like a guy? What does that even mean?"

"W-well... it means that, as I am right now, I am...unhappy."

"Goddammit, Kyle, stop talking in fucking riddles! Is this your way of saying you want to be like Butters and start wearing dresses? Or-or...I dunno, fuck, some backwards way of telling me you're in love with me?" Kyle flinched. Stan was shouting by that point. The louder he got, the more it felt like he was punching Kyle in the heart. And it fucking hurt.

"No, Stan. That's not what I am trying to say at all!" he said defensively.

Stan just seemed to get angrier. "You don't feel like a guy? So what? You think you're a woman? Like Mr. Garrison?"

Kyle was trembling now, his whole idea of Stan being there for him being thrown in his face. "K-kind of," he said meekly.

Stan's eyes widened. "Kind of? Are you fucking serious right now? Kyle! You think you're like Mr. Garrison? Dude, that guy was a freak!" Kyle said nothing, just stared off into nothing as Stan ranted at him. There was nothing he could say, and he knew that if he looked at Stan or tried to explain, the tears he'd been holding at bay would absolutely fall. So he chose to block out the rest of what Stan was saying, because he already felt like dying. Hearing his best friend abandon him further would just be the finishing move.

Besides, Stan's message was quite clear. He equated Kyle with Mr. Garrison. He thought Mr. Garrison was a freak. He thought Kyle was a freak.

Once he finished letting off some steam, Stan grabbed his backpack from where it lay against Kyle's leg. "I have to go."

Again, Kyle said nothing. He just nodded, his face a completely blank mask. He heard Stan leave, but still did nothing. His thoughts were running at 100 miles per second. That was how Stan, his super best friend since they were babies, reacted to Kyle's coming out. The one person whom he thought he could rely on the most cursed him and left. The thought of how his family would react caused him to sob, his face buried in his hands, his body bent in agony. It was quite obvious to him that he couldn't- shouldn't- tell his family. They would drive him out of South Park, let alone their home.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying, but as the sobs receded to the occasional hiccough, Kyle's face was wet, red and puffy. He had no idea what he was going to do. Obviously, whatever plans he'd made with Stan were no longer going to happen. He really wasn't ready to go home yet, either. Sighing, he remained sitting right where he was, contemplating his next move.

"Broflovski?" a surprised voice asked from behind him.

He sat up, watching Craig make his way up towards him. He almost looked concerned, as much as Craig could look concerned. When Craig finally reached him, Kyle gave him a tight-mouthed smile, which he was almost certain looked like a grimace. "Hey." His voice was raw from crying.

"I saw Marsh blow up at you." There was that charming Tucker tact that Craig was known for. "Do...do you want to talk about it?" Kyle just stared at him. He didn't look like he wanted to talk about it.

Kyle shook his head. "Nah, that's ok." He cleared his throat, wiping a hand across his face. "I don't want to bore you with the details."

"While I normally appreciate that, you've been sitting here for twenty minutes, crying your ass off. Something's up."

"You're right. I just... I've already had one person tell me I'm a freak, I don't want another," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears again.

Craig scoffed in disgust. "He said that to you? What an asshole!" Before Kyle realized what was happening, Craig had grabbed Kyle's backpack, and as pulling Kyle into a standing position. "C'mon."

"What?"

"You look like a person who might do something stupid if left alone. I don't know, I feel it necessary to make sure you don't do something stupid."

Kyle let Craig pull him along in a daze. Craig Tucker was hanging out with him so he wouldn't do something...stupid. Kyle's eyes widened with the realization of what he was saying. "You think I'm going to kill myself?"

Craig shrugged. "I said 'something stupid'. That's up to you to decide what, exactly, that means."

They were quiet as they walked through the town. Kyle honestly didn't know what to say. In the span of a few minutes, everything that was secure about his life was no longer secure. And now Craig Tucker was dragging him around like he was some type of lost puppy.

They made their way to Starks Pond, where Tweek, Clyde and Token were already sitting, chatting. They waved when they saw Craig, and looked surprised at Kyle being with him.

"Hey man," Token said, giving Craig a curious look. He got a good look at Kyle's appearance frowned.

"Hey," Kyle said, not looking at any one of them.

"Dude, you kinda look like shit," Clyde said. Behind him Token groaned, and Craig shot him a dirty look. Kyle just laughed softly, shaking his head.

"That's ok. I kinda feel like shit."

"Marsh is being a super asshole," Craig offered as an explanation. Clyde nodded solemnly. Token scoffed, shaking his head. Tweek just twitched, eyeing Kyle sadly. "And he doesn't want to talk about it," he added as Clyde opened his mouth to ask a question. Craig sat down next to Tweek, patting his knee as he did so. Token scooted over, making room for Kyle between him and Clyde.

Over the years whatever animosity between "Stan's Gang" and "Craig's Gang" slowly diminished, although Stan and Craig still couldn't stand one another. But as they got older, they accepted the fact that as long as they lived in such a small town, they were going to be around each other. It was, as Kenny liked to joke, a truce of inconvenience.

"Not that I mind you being here, but...um... " Clyde started after a few minutes of silence.

Craig rolled his eyes. "Does his presence bother you that much?"

Clyde shook his head frantically. "No! I'm just curious as to why he isn't with Stan."

Kyle fidgeted. "Because my presence bothers him." He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the pitying looks he knew they were giving him. He didn't elaborate further, and surprisingly, Clyde didn't ask any more questions. Though, that may have had something to do with the fact that somebody punched Clyde, hard.

The five of them spent the next few hours just chatting about nothing. Clyde pulled out a 12-pack that he'd brought from home. Kyle only took one. Occasionally he would join in the conversation, but mostly he sat quietly, watching the dynamic of the other four, taking a few sips of his beer every once in a while. It was almost funny watching how they interacted with one another. Mostly, he thought about his situation, and what he was going to do. He was immensely glad that Cartman had gotten food poisoning and was on bed rest. Just the idea of Cartman knowing his secret, and of the fight he'd had with Stan, made him lurch violently.

"Jesus!" Tweek jumped.

"Whoa!" Clyde said, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "You ok?" Kyle nodded, still feeling slightly out of sorts.

"Lightweight much?" Craig asked cocking an eyebrow. His tone held more concern, however, than his look.

"Sorry," Kyle said once he was balanced. He stole a glance at his watch, and sighed. "I should get going. I don't want to ruin anymore of your night."

"You don't have to go," Token said. Kyle stood up, patting down his pants.

"I appreciate that. But I'm starting to get tired, and after..." He paused, then shook his head. "I just want to go to bed." He grabbed his backpack from the pile and started heading for his house. He was well aware of four sets of eyes watching him.

"Hey, Kyle?" Craig called out.

"Yeah?"

Craig looked at him, a serious look on his face that Kyle just wasn't used to. After staring at one another for a few seconds, Craig said, "Nothing stupid."

Kyle nodded. "Nothing stupid."

Token offered a smile. "We'll see you on Monday?"

"Yeah. See you guys then." Kyle waved at them, and they all waved back. Then he continued his journey home.

There was a huge difference walking home alone than walking to the pond with Craig. For one thing, since when did Craig ever ask him to join his group for a Friday night get together? The more pressing matter was the fact that, now that he was alone, Kyle's mind was in overdrive. He kept replaying the conversation with Stan, asking himself how he could have done it differently. What he could have said differently. Had he taken Stan's feelings into consideration?

It never occurred to Kyle that Stan was acting like a major asshole, as Craig had put it.

When he got home, he found his parents in the living room, watching television. Kyle's mother was resting her head on Gerald's chest. Gerald had his arm wrapped around Sheila. The perfect family moment.

Kyle made the decision after Stan blew up at him to not tell his parents. Seeing them in such a state of obvious domestic suburban bliss only solidified that.

He was an anomaly. He wasn't going to wreck his family's life with just how different he felt.

Sheila looked up from the television and offered a kind smile that Kyle felt squeezing his insides. "How was your day, Bubbeh?"

"Fine. It was fine."

Sheila frowned, getting off the couch. She placed her hands on his face, just staring at him. "Is everything alright, Kyle?"

He nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm just really tired. I was up really late last night."

"You know you can talk to us about anything, Bubbeh. Your father and I will listen."

Goddammit, why was she making it harder for him? For not the first time, Kyle was almost positive his mother could read minds.

"I know, Mom," he said, giving her a hug. He couldn't look at her right now. "I love you."

On the couch, he could see his father watching the scene with a frown on his face. Sheila just hugged him tighter. He'd also forgotten how nice his mother's hugs felt when he was feeling down.

"We love you, too, Bubbeh." She stood on her toes to place a kiss on his forehead. "You just go get some rest. You look exhausted. We'll talk later."

When his mother let him go, Kyle let out a shuddering breath. He gave his dad a small smile, and began climbing the stairs. He could hear his heart beating faster and louder with every step closer to his bedroom. When the door was closed, he leaned his back against it. The room was quiet enough that he could hear Ike in his room, puttering about. He could hear his parents downstairs.

And he let go. He slid to the floor, the tears he didn't want his parents seeing pouring down his face.


	3. Exodus

_Disclaimer: South Park belongs to Matt and Trey. _

_To the reviewers, and those who faved, I really, truly appreciate it. So much. _

* * *

><p>It was now a few minutes after midnight. Kyle, despite feeling both mentally and physically exhausted, was still awake. His face hurt from his earlier crying fit, his eyes stung every time he blinked.<p>

He sat on his bed, staring at the duffel bag and backpack that were now sitting on the floor of his bedroom. They were filled with clothes, a few toiletries, money, and various other objects he felt he would need on his journey. He spent the past few hours doing research, as he was wont to do, and reached the conclusion that South Park was just not the right place for him. What he needed was a big city to hide in plain sight. He would go to Denver, as it was close to home, before regrouping and heading to a bigger city. Either coast was fine, New York and Sacramento were always places he'd like to live. (Not San Francisco, after the hell his parents put him through.) He felt that a bigger city would be more accepting to him anyway.

Kyle fingered the stack of notes he'd written just a short while ago. There was one for every important person in his life; his family, Stan (even if he no longer wished to speak to Kyle, he felt as though Stan deserved a goodbye), and Kenny. He even wrote, albeit a very short, letter to Craig. The contents of that letter read "Thank you, and I'm sorry. –KB" His apology was for not listening to Craig and for doing "something stupid". He just felt as though he no longer had a choice.

Each letter was different, depending on the recipient, but each was just as personal and heartfelt. The hardest one to write was the one to Sheila and Gerald. Kyle didn't explain what he was going through. He did, however, beg for forgiveness. Many times.

The clock now read 12:12. With a sigh, Kyle stood, removing his hat and placing it on the bed. He grabbed the backpack and duffel bag. He then carefully placed the letter addressed to his parents on top of the hat. He decided to leave it behind for obvious reasons. It was way too recognizable. What if, while he was still in Denver, Randy Marsh happened to come across it? He couldn't very well be hidden in plain sight if he was going to be dumb about it.

Leaving the hat was also symbolic. He was going off to start a new life. He was going to be a new person. He was going to need a new look.

With the note in place, Kyle turned the light to his (now ex-) bedroom. He didn't look back. The door clicked softly behind him as he closed it.

And standing directly on the other side was Ike.

"Kyle?"

The brothers stated at each other for a few seconds. Kyle had not taken running into anyone on the way out as a consideration.

"Uh…hey, Ike," Kyle said nervously.

Ike turned his head to the side, just looking at Kyle. "What's going on? What's with the bags?"

"I would have thought that it was obvious…."

Ike cut Kyle off. "Don't be a jackass, big brother. I get you're running away, but I wanna know why. Was it something Mom and Dad said?"

Kyle shook his head. "Only in my mind."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It does in my head. Anyway, what are you doing away so late?"

Ike smirked. "Well, for starters, I'm 12, not 5. Also, it's not a school night, so I don't have to be in bed early. And c, I had to pee."

Kyle stuck his tongue out in disgust. "Ok, sorry."

"You never answered my question. Does this," Ike pointed to the bags, "have anything to do with what you were talking about with Kenny yesterday?"

Kyle paled. "You were eavesdropping on my conversation?"

"Not on purpose. You're kinda hard to ignore when you're yelling and throwing books. I was at the door after you threw your book cause I wanted to see if you were ok."

Kyle felt stuck. He knew that Ike was listening to his conversation. How much had he heard, though? If he was there from the beginning, it meant that Ike knew, more or less, what was going on. Could he really understand what Kyle was going through?

Again for the nth time that day, his and Stan's conversation playing in his head.

"You don't have to go," Ike said, breaking Kyle train of thought. His little brother looked so sad, it nearly broke Kyle's resolve. "You could stay and talk to Mom and Dad. O-or just to me, if you want," he added quickly at the look on Kyle's face at the mere mention of their parents.

"I'm sorry, little brother, but I can't stay. I don't want anyone else to end up miserable."

"Why would anyone else be miserable? Who's miserable now?"

Kyle looked at his brother sadly. "I am."

"I still don't get why, though."

Kyle thought for a moment. How could he explain this to his brother?

"I'm not happy how I am."

Ike nodded. It figured that he would understand what Kyle was saying, being the genius that he was. "And you're absolutely sure that that you can't talk to anyone about this?" Kyle nodded. Ike's furiously wiped at his face, a habit of his to hide when he was about to start crying. "Can you do me a favor, then?"

"What?"

"Can you at least keep in touch? E-even if it's just with me?"

Kyle smiled softly. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Can I ask for one more thing?"

"What's that?"

"Could you at least wait until the morning to go? I know you want to get the hell out of here, but…it's dark, and raining, and cold and I would be happier if you waited."

Kyle said nothing, just opened his arms for Ike. The younger boy ran into the awaiting arms, squeezing Kyle tightly. Ike's tears were dampening the front of Kyle's shirt. Kyle wrapped his arms around the now quietly sobbing boy, holding him just as tightly, resting his head on the smaller boy's.

"I'm so sorry, but I can't do that," he said quietly into his brother's hair. "If I wait, Dad and Mom, especially Mom, will try to stop me, and I want…I _need_ to avoid that. But I promise that as soon as I settle somewhere, you will be the first to know."

Kyle pulled from the hug first. Smiling, he brushed Ike's hair back, then wiped at Ike's face, brushing away the tears, however futile the task was. He turned and grabbed his bags from where he left them on the floor, before starting to make his way downstairs.

Ike followed Kyle, crying softly.

Kyle paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking around the living room. The pictures of his and Ike's childhood. The horrible bobbles that Sheila picked that all the men of the house hated, but said nothing about. This was his childhood home.

Kyle was truly surprised by the sudden wave of grief he felt. He really was going to miss this house.

"What about Stan?" Ike asked.

"What?"

"If he asks what happened. What do I tell Stan?"

Kyle couldn't help the bitter smile that made its way onto his face. "Stan isn't going to ask about me. Trust me on that one." Kyle shook his head when Ike went to ask another question. Ike understood, and nodded. "Make sure Mom and Dad get my note, ok?"

Ike ran down the remaining steps, once again wrapping his arms around Kyle's waist.

"Please don't forget that you promised to call me," the younger boy cried. "A-and no matter what, you're my big brother and I love you."

"I love you, too, little brother."

With a final squeeze, Kyle gave Ike a watery smile, and made his way out of the house. When he was a short distance from the house, he turned and waved at Ike, whom he knew would be watching him. His brother's tears broke his heart, and for once, Kyle was grateful it was raining.

* * *

><p>The light rain shower that began when Kyle left his house was now a full-fledged storm with lightning and wind. Kyle wished he'd had the foresight to bring an umbrella with him as he trekked through the familiar streets of his hometown. He thought that perhaps he should have listened to Ike and waited until morning. At least he wouldn't be so cold. And wet. Very, very wet.<p>

He'd only been walking for a few minutes before he found himself at Stan's house. All the lights in the house were off, except for Stan's room. The blinds were drawn, though, so Kyle couldn't even have a final glance. Wendy was probably over, anyway. Kyle didn't really want to see that.

Kyle bent down, picking up a rock. He thought about throwing it at the window, to get Stan's attention, but knew that was probably not wise. He dropped the rock, and reached for his backpack instead. Pulling out the letter addressed for Stan, Kyle put the envelope in the mail box, putting up the little flag. Sharon would probably be the first to notice, and Kyle was certain she would make sure his letter found its rightful owner.

He felt a strange detachment letting go of the letter. Instead of a burden being pulled from his shoulders, he only felt more weight. It would be a while before Kyle realized that in giving that letter to Stan, it was the symbolic end of the longtime friendship between the two, which has survived so much over so many years. With the letter no longer in Kyle's possession, he was ending a friendship he thought would last forever.

With the letter safely out of his hands, Kyle began backing away from the Marsh residence. He wanted one last glance, the same as with his house. Satisfied with the image that would forever be imprinted in his mind, Kyle began running. He kept running until he made it to Craig's house. He stopped running in front of the Tucker residence, bent over trying to catch his breath.

The rain had let up only a little bit, a respite that he appreciated. It didn't do anything for the cold that was seeping in through his clothes, but he was no longer being drowned.

Again he reached into his backpack, pulling out the letter addressed to Craig. He placed the letter in Craig's mailbox, and started walking towards Kenny's house in a daze.

When had everything escalated so quickly? Had he been so in his own head that he missed everything that was going on outside? Should he have taken Ike's advice and waited for morning to speak with his parents?

Kyle stopped when he realized he was at Kenny's house. It had started raining again and he wasn't even aware of it. He stood outside, more "what if's" running through his mind. He'd already made the trek this far out, he found no point in going back. He was wet and cold, but also determined.

Kenny's letter was to only one that had an explanation of what was going on. Stan already knew, and disapproved. But Kyle felt that if anyone deserved to have a reason for his departure, it was Kenny. And Kyle left nothing out of the letter: Stan's rejection, his inability to talk to his family, that fact that he was slowly realizing he was transgendered. All of it.

He hoped that Kenny could support him in spirit, even if Kyle wasn't in South Park anymore. Losing his family and Stan was horrible enough.

He placed his duffel bag on the floor, and began digging in his backpack for Kenny's letter. With the rain pouring down now, Kyle was having a hard time pulling the letter out of the bag without getting everything else inside soaked. He regretted burying the letters under clothes and other things the more it rained. The only consolation was the letters weren't drenched like he was.

His fingers finally grasped the envelope, when an arm came out from behind him, wrapping itself around his throat. Kyle let out a strangled yelp, dropping his backpack, his fingers digging into the arm cutting off his air intake.

Of course he would be mugged in the rain, at almost two o'clock in the morning.

"Who the _fuck_ are you, and what do you think you're doing to my house, fucker?" a familiar scratchy voice said into Kyle's ear. It was Kenny.

If Kyle could breathe, he would have sighed in relief.

"K-Kenny!" Kyle rasped, hitting Kenny's arm, his vision getting fuzzy. "It's Kyle! Kyle!"

Kenny dropped his arm. "Kyle? Dude, the fuck?"

As soon as Kenny let go of him, Kyle took a deep breath, coughing as he struggled to get air back into his lungs. Fuck if Kenny wasn't strong….

"It's a quarter after one, in the morning! What the fuck are you doing all the way over here in the rain? And where's your hat?"

Once his breathing was more or less regular, Kyle bent down to pick up the letter he'd dropped in Kenny's attack. He held it out for Kenny to take, rubbing his neck. Clearing his throat, he said, "I came to give you this."

Kenny shook his head incredulously, taking the letter from Kyle. "You almost froze yourself to death trying to give me a note?"

"Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world…" Kyle mumbled in response. Kenny heard him, unfortunately for Kyle, giving the younger boy an anxious look. Kyle backpedaled. "Look, I have to go, but…just read that, ok? It'll explain everything, I promise." Without even thinking twice, Kyle hugged Kenny. "Bye."

Kyle didn't even make it two steps from Kenny before the blond reached out and grabbed his arm. Kyle fidgeted as Kenny eyed him, taking in his appearance. Lack of hat notwithstanding, the redhead looked horrible. Much worse than the day before when he was having some sort of panic attack. When Kyle tried to pull his arm out of Kenny's grasp, he just increased his grip. As weak as he was in comparison to Kenny's strength, Kyle wasn't going to be able to pull his arm free.

"Kenny," Kyle pleaded, "I have to go."

Kenny frowned. "Where are you going in such a hurry at two in the morning?" Kyle said nothing, choosing instead to stare at his shoes. Not letting go of Kyle's arm, Kenny bent down, grabbing both bags with one hand, and practically dragged Kyle inside. He led the two of them in the darkness of his house, making his way to his bedroom. Putting the bags on the floor, Kenny flipped the light switch. The single bulb in the opposite corner of the room blinding the two for a few seconds before their eyes adjusted to the light.

Kenny closed the door behind him. Letting go of Kyle's arm finally, he pointed to the mattress on the floor that he used as a bed. "Sit."

Kyle hesitated, looking around the bare room for an exit. The only two available were the door right behind Kenny, and the window. He could fit through the window, no problem. His only concern was he would need to leave his bags behind. And, also, Kenny could also fit through the window right after him.

"Goddammit." Kyle plopped himself onto the mattress sullenly.

Kenny grinned. Leaning against the door, he ripped open the envelope, pulling out Kyle's letter. Kyle squirmed on the mattress, waiting for Kenny to finish reading. Occasionally, he would look up, but would immediately look back down to his hands as Kenny frowned. Kyle couldn't help but wonder if Kenny would be less forgiving than Stan.

Kenny, for his part, read the letter with a slight sense of disbelief. A troubled frown made its way onto his face from the very first sentence. It deepened the further along he got. Kyle's letter was disheartening to say the least. The fact that Kyle was admitting to him that he was transgendered didn't bother Kenny at all. In fact, he was glad that Kyle trusted him enough to share that with him.

It was several other things that were bothering Kenny. For one, Kyle feeling as though he couldn't tell his parents what was going on without some sort of retribution, most likely being disowned. The fact that Kyle felt the need to run away. And the one that pissed him off more than anything ever had: Stanley Marsh. Reading that part of the letter, Kenny felt an anger towards Stan that he'd never felt towards anybody.

Kenny ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head as he thought about everything he had to take in. This was a lot of information, with severe consequences, in a very short amount of time.

Kyle watched as Kenny lowered the letter. He was no longer fidgeting. Now he was sitting directly onto his hands, his eyes shut tightly. Fight or flight was now taking over. His response now hindered on Kenny's reaction.

Kenny sat down next to Kyle silently. He had no idea what to say to his hurting friend. In the end, it was Kyle who broke the silence.

"I've dropped out of school." Kenny doesn't say anything to him. "My parents don't know yet, but come Monday, this will all be very real." The two sat in silence, Kyle waiting for Kenny's reaction. After receiving none, Kyle nodded, and began to stand.

Kenny reached out, pulling on Kyle's arm. The Jew fell over, landing awkwardly onto the mattress. Kyle righted himself, looking at Kenny. Kenny took in Kyle's appearance. He looked worse in the light than he did in the dark. He face looked so worn, his eyes tired and red.

Kenny took Kyle's hand in between his own, rubbing it for warmth. He relaxed a bit as Kyle's cheeks began to flush.

"What are you doing?" Kyle asked, trying to pull his hand away.

Kenny tightened his hold the more Kyle struggled to get away. "I'm trying to prevent my best friend from dying of hypothermia." When Kenny was satisfied with his handiwork (no pun intended), he grabbed Kyle's other hand and repeated the process. This time, Kyle didn't fight back. He just sat there and let Kenny do what he wanted.

"Obviously," Kenny said, breaking the silence, "you're dead set on getting the fuck out of South Park. I don't blame you." Kyle sat there, growing more anxious as Kenny spoke. He had no way of responding to what Kenny was saying, so he opted for not saying anything. Kenny stopped rubbing his hand, but this time, he didn't let go. Light blue eyes looked up and met with green. "I won't stop you from going. But I'm not letting you go alone."

Kyle cocked his head to the side. "…what?"

"You wanna leave? Ok, fine. We'll leave in the morning, together."

Kyle could feel the tears forming again. He was getting really tired of all this crying.

"Look." Kenny looked at Kyle's hand in his. "You've always been around to help me out with confusing shit in my life. I don't want you to go off by yourself because I may never see you again. And I want to make sure you have someone there to help you out. Stan Marsh is an idiot. Instead of being there for you during a really confusing time in your life, he yelled at you and abandoned you. Not only does that make him an idiot, it makes him an asshole. You've always been there for him, why the fuck did he suddenly shove a stick up his ass when you needed him?"

Kyle smiled as Kenny reassured him that this wasn't going to be a repeat of that afternoon. He could also read between the lines. This was Kenny's way of telling Kyle what Craig had told him. "Don't do anything stupid." Kenny was just as worried as Craig had been that Kyle might try to take his own life in a desperate act of loneliness.

Kenny cleared his throat again, giving Kyle's hand a squeeze. "I'm happy that you're figuring out who you are. And I would be really happy if you would let me help you out in finally getting there."

The dam broke with those words. Kenny had accepted him, and wanted to help him. Sobbing, Kyle nodded furiously, unable to get the words out. As Kyle cried, Kenny pulled him into his arms, letting him cry on his shoulder. Kenny was truly worried that Kyle would push him away and keep going on by himself.

Kenny didn't let go of Kyle until the sobbing had become quiet sniffles. It was Kyle who pulled away first, wiping his face with his jacket sleeves.

"Feeling better?" Kenny asked softly. Kyle nodded sheepishly.

"Thank you," Kyle croaked, his voice raw from crying. "You don't know how much that meant."

"I have a small idea." Kenny took his now soaked shirt off, playfully wiping at Kyle's face. Kyle swatted Kenny's hand away, laughing quietly. Kenny tossed the shirt to the floor. Reaching over, he pulled Kyle to his chest, wrestling the jacket off and trying to get the redhead to lie down with him.

"What are you doing now?" Kyle asked, struggling and failing to get out of Kenny's grasp. Once Kenny had the blanket pulled over them, Kyle sighed, resigned to having to stay pressed against Kenny's chest.

"Body heat and sleep. You look exhausted. And blue."

"Blue?"

"Your fingers were blue before I started rubbing them, and your mouth was starting to turn purple. I told you it was freezing outside. I'm warming you up." Kyle remained tense as Kenny spoke. Eventually, his mind caught up with his body, and he began relaxing. As soon as Kenny felt it, he loosened his vice grip around his friend.

Kyle yawned, noting for the first time just how tired he actually was. He closed his eyes, unconsciously snuggling against Kenny. "Thank you Kenny."

Kenny shushed him. After a few minutes of just lying there, Kyle was asleep.

As Kyle slept, Kenny resolved to help his friend out in any way he could. It wasn't fair what Kyle was doing to his parents, but it also must have been very hurtful to him to feel as though this were the only way to do things. Kenny felt that maybe, once the dust settled, he could convince Kyle to talk to his family.

Those were his final thoughts as he succumbed to sleep himself.


	4. Where Do All My Friends Go

_South Park belongs to Trey and Matt._

_Also, sorry about the delay. Life and stuff. _

* * *

><p>As he was slowly waking up, Kyle could hear shouting from somewhere nearby. It unnerved him as that wasn't normal in his house. His father never raised his voice in anger. His mother was always loud as a general rule.<p>

He also noticed his bed was unusually warm. And moving.

…moving?

Kyle sat up, realizing he wasn't at his house at all. He was at Kenny's house. Sleeping in Kenny's bed. Sleeping _on_ Kenny. And Kenny was wide awake, watching him sleep.

"Jesus Christ, dude!" Kyle groaned, leaning against the wall as his equilibrium righted itself. "Were you watching me sleep?"

Kenny grinned. "Well, good morning to you as well, sunshine!" Kenny sat up now that he was no longer being used as a body pillow. "So, how soon are you planning on bailing? Any where are we going?"

"How long have you been awake?" Kyle asked in between yawns.

"About half an hour. You looked like you needed the sleep, so I didn't move. Answer my question."

Kyle frowned, thinking. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 10:30. His parents would have realized he was gone by now. And they would have started their search for him.

"Now would be great," he told Kenny. Kenny nodded. "I want to go to Denver."

"Denver? Isn't that kinda obvious?"

Kyle shook his head. "It's just a layover. I'll figure it out more later. But I want to stop over in Denver and probably head east."

"How east is east?"

"New York."

Kenny got up and began rummaging around his room, looking for clothes. "You really have this all planned out, don't you?"

Kyle smirked. "Not all planned out. But I need to stop in Denver. That's a must."

Kenny pulled a shirt over his head. "A must?"

Kyle began rifling through his backpack. He pulled out a stack of papers. "There's this place in Denver, it's a support group. I was hoping to talk to them. I think that, if I can talk to them, I can figure out what to do from there. There's only so much research on a topic that I can do by myself." He frowned, looking at the papers.

Kenny nodded, sniffing a pair of jeans he'd pulled from the floor, before putting them on. Once dressed, Kenny sat down next to Kyle, putting an arm around the smaller teen. "Well, whatever you decide to do, just know that I got your back. So, the first issue to take care of is getting you to Denver. How are you going to do that?"

Kyle's face flushed as he played with the papers in his hands, avoiding any and all eye contact with Kenny. Knowing his friend, he would not approve of Kyle's method of transport. With a heavy sigh, Kyle admitted, "I was planning on hitchhiking."

Kenny stared at Kyle for a few seconds before exploding. "Are you fucking KIDDING? Hitchhiking?! Kyle, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say!" Kyle flinched as Kenny raved. "Dude, you were gonna hitchhike to Denver? Do you know what they do to hitchhikers? Do you know what they do to hitchhikers that look like you?"

"What do you mean 'who look like me'?" Kyle asked defensively.

"Jesus, dude," Kenny sighed, "that is such a bad idea."

Kyle crossed his arms across his chest, frowning. "It was a last minute idea, and it was my only option. What do you suggest, then, to get to Denver?"

"Hold that thought," Kenny said, standing up. He left the room as Kyle sat there silently fuming over having been called stupid. There was some commotion heard coming from the opposite end of the house. Kyle could faintly hear Kenny yelling at his parents, something about "gas" and "keys". Carol yelled back a response that was a muffled "Why?" Kyle moved over to the door to eavesdrop.

"…cause I'm heading to Denver!" Kenny yelled.

"Ya comin' back?" Stuart asked.

"Nah," was the response. The yelling died down from there, so Kyle went back to sitting on the bed, pretending to be looking over his papers. Kenny sauntered into the room, holding a set of keys in his hand. Kyle looked up questioningly.

"This," Kenny said, jingling the keys, "is how we are getting to Denver." He then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small wad of cash. "And this should cover gas."

Kyle's eyes widened. "Dude, no! That's your money! I can pay for the gas…"

Kenny waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, shut up. You've got more than enough on your plate. I got this." Kenny flashed him a smile, then began collecting things to start putting into bags.

Within 20 minutes, Kenny had three bags full of clothes and essentials, taking nearly everthing he owned. The hard part was getting Kyle passed his parents while loading the truck. Kenny decided it would be best if Kyle just waited in the truck while Kenny grabbed whatever was missing.

Kyle sat slightly impatiently in the truck, watching as Kenny said goodbye to his sister and mother, feeling both guilty and sad. He didn't get a chance to say goodbye to his parents or brother, and now he was pulling Kenny away from his family.

He leaned back into the seat, slightly slumped over. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement in the side mirror. He sat up frantically.

Stan was making his way over.

Kyle dove for the floor, quickly trying to roll down the window without getting caught. He really hoped Kenny would notice and get rid of Stan.

He heard, unable to see from the bottom of the truck floor, Kenny making his was over to the truck.

"Stan? What are you doing here?" Kenny asked. He sounded genuinely surprised. There was a brief pause. Taking a huge risk, Kyle sat up enough to look out of the window. Stan was reaching into his pocket. Kyle immediately recognized what came out of the pocket.

It was his letter.

"Kyle's missing," Stan said quietly. "His dad stopped by my house this morning, asking if I'd see him. I went to his place to see if I could help look for him."

"Missing? How's his family doing?"

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dude, they're a fucking mess. When I went there, his mom was sobbing. Ike was crying. His dad looks like he's been punched in the gut."

"But why would Kyle go missing?"

Stan looked over Kenny's shoulder, purposefully not wanting to look him in the eyes. "Kyle's been weird lately, saying some really weird shit. We got into a fight, and I haven't seen him since."

'That's one way of putting it,' Kyle thought bitterly.

Kenny eyed Stan. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the letter Kyle had written for him. Stan looked at it in shock. "Weird shit? Like the fact that he's transsexual?"

"Y-you knew?" Stan asked, looking a bit afraid.

"Yeah, I knew. He told me so himself, when he tried leaving the note last night."

Stan's face morphed from confused to angry. "He's here?"

Kenny shook his head. "Not anymore. He left last night."

"And you let him go?!"

Kenny shrugged. "He told me he was going home. Obviously, he lied to me. Or that place isn't his home anymore. What I want to know is why you guys were fighting in the first place."

Again, Stan looked away. He cleared his throat nervously. "I didn't take the news very well."

"I don't think I understand what that means, Stanley."

Stan turned away from Kenny, folding his arms across his chest. "I yelled at him."

"Got that much."

"What the fuck do you want from me, Kenny?" Stan yelled.

"I want to know what you're planning on doing about this!" Kenny yelled back.

Stan through his arms up in frustration. "I don't know! There isn't really much I can do right now! I tried calling him, but he left his cell phone. There's no way of knowing where he's headed, even if I were to go chase after him. That's why I came here."

Kenny nodded. "What about his parents?"

"Gerald looks like he's about to call the army and start looking for him, and Sheila… dude," he sighs, "She's a fucking mess. The entire time I was at his house, she was sitting on the couch crying."

"Fuck."

Inside of the truck, Kyle pressed his forehead against the door, curling into himself, feeling ashamed for putting his parents through all of this.

"What are you going to do if you do find him?" Kenny asked. Neither were looking at the other. Kenny' kept stealing glances at the truck, having noticed the lowered window with a frown.

"I don't know if there is anything I can do at this point, but ask him to come home." Stan began pacing, shoving his hands, and the letter, into his jacket pockets. "I mean, I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this. You have to admit, it's little bit freaky."

Kenny glared at him. And here he thought they were making progress. "That's really fucking selfish of you."

"What?"

"You would leave Kyle in a really serious crazy time in his life because you find it 'freaky'?"

"This isn't something you get over easily, Kenny!"

"I did."

Stan scoffed. "And obviously you did a great job too, because you were the last to see Kyle and now nobody fucking knows where he is!"

Kenny clenched his hands into fists, trying not to punch Stan. He was genuinely amazed with what he was hearing from Stan. It was actually worse hearing it come from Stan than Kyle's description of events. Kyle wasn't trying to make Stan sound as horrible as Kenny was encountering. With a groan, Kenny turned away from Stan, and began walking towards his house.

"So what now?" Kenny heard Stan call out. "Are you at least going to help look for Kyle?"

Kenny stopped in front of the door. "I'm confused by you right now, Stan. Why are you so concerned with finding Kyle if you don't accept him for him?" Kenny turned around to look. Stan's eyes were closed tightly, with his hands in his pockets.

"I really do believe that Kyle is confused. But we're still best friends," he responded softly.

Kenny frowned. "Best friends support each other."

Stan glared at Kenny. Without another word, he turned and left. Kenny watched as the Stan turned the corner, and continued to walk away without glancing back.

Kenny's looked at the truck, suddenly remembering that Kyle was in there, waiting for him. His eyes widened as he noticed the open window.

"Fuck!" he cried, running to the truck. He opened the door, spotting Kyle lying on the seat, staring forward blankly. Tears were running down the side of his face onto the seat.

Kenny climbed onto the seat, being careful not to sit on Kyle's head. He tenderly placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing little circles. Kyle took a shuddering breath, before closing his eyes and sobbing.

"Kyle…" Kenny said, trying to think of something comforting to say. The broken look in Kyle's face broke Kenny's heart. He pulled the redhead into a tight hug, allowing him to cry and lament the end of a lifelong friendship. Kenny wasn't sure how long they were sitting there. All he knew was that the next time he encountered Stanley Marsh, he was going to break his nose.

Kyle was the first to pull away, not looking Kenny in the eye. "Sorry," he murmured, wiping his face with his sleeves.

"No worries."

There was a rapping on the door of the truck. Both Kyle and Kenny jumped at the sound. Kenny's mother, Carol, stood there, a concerned look not usually seen on her face. Reaching into the truck, passing Kenny, she gently wiped away the few stray tears from Kyle's face. Ignoring his surprise, she offered him a small, albeit sad smile.

"You're secrets are safe with me," she told the two. She handed Kenny a worn envelope.

"Ma…?" Kenny looked into the envelope. Inside were several large bills of cash. Kenny pulled the money out of the envelope, stunned. "Wha…?"

"Now, it isn't much, but I figure it'll get you to wherever you're goin'."

"Ma, there's $600 in here!"

"I ain't never been much of a good mother to you kids, but I figure it's never too late. Why not help out in any little way I can?"

Kenny just stared at his mother. Several thoughts ran through his head. Why was she giving him all that money? How was she going to take care of Karen if he had the money? Where the fuck did she _get_ the money? When he asked her, she started laughing.

"I'm not like your deadbeat daddy. I've been savin' what I made at store. And now with you and your brother gone, there'll be more food for the rest of us!"

Kenny jumped out of the truck, laughing. He threw himself at his mother, hugging her tightly. Carol hugged him back, kissing him on the cheek before shoving him away.

"Alright, that's enough of that." Carol turned to Kyle, who was sitting silently slumped over in his seat. "Listen, Kyle." She waited until he was looking at her. "I get what you're going through is real hard, and you don't want to talk about it with your parents. Hell, if Sheila was my mother, I'd never tell you anything!" Kyle smiled at that. "But I am a mom, and you don't know how scary it can be worrying about your kids. Especially when they have secrets." Both Kyle and Kenny had the decency to look uncomfortable at this. Carol took Kyle's hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. "I'm not going to tell you to go home. But, maybe every once in a while you give your momma a call? Let her know you're doing ok."

Kyle let out a shaky breath. Never in a million years did he expect Carol McCormick to offer anyone, let alone him, any valid advice. He nodded.

"Good boy," she smiled. She winked at Kenny, before walking back towards the house. The two watched as she made her way inside, waving at them from the door. Kenny waved back, while Kyle just raised his hand in acknowledgement, not sure about what was going on anymore. Once the door was closed, Kenny turned to Kyle.

"So, where to now?"

Kyle slowly turned to Kenny. He stared at the blond for a minute, before smiling. "Denver."

With a nod, Kenny started the truck and began to pull away from his house. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother watching them from the window in the kitchen.

As they drove off, Kyle sighed, leaning his forehead against the window. He could see Stan walking back into town. "See ya," he said sadly, placing his hand on the window as they drove past him. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn that Stan saw him. Kyle didn't turn around to look.

Kenny did, looking through the rearview mirror. He watched as Stan started running after the truck, yelling and waving his arms frantically. Without a second thought, Kenny sped up, ignoring Stan.

"So, Denver," Kenny said, breaking the silence.

"Denver."

"Where, exactly, in Denver are we going?"

Kyle leaned forward and started rummaging through his backpack. Pulling a folder out, his held up a piece of paper.

"This is where I want to go. There's a hostel I was planning on staying at, until I could get better situated."

Kenny looked confused. "You mean hotel?"

"No, hostel."

"Um…"

Kyle sighed. " A hostel is like a hotel, but usually meant for people who are backpacking, or international students who don't have a lot of money for a hotel. It's way cheaper."

Kenny nodded, impressed by all the forethought that went into planning all of this, and saddened by the level of research Kyle had obviously done. Clearing his throat, he said, "Ok. Hostel it is."


End file.
